My Impossible Girl
by Ramonks33
Summary: AU: John Smith has had his heart broken too far to mend. Now healing, he reluctantly agrees to let Amelia, his best friend, sign him for an adoption, and finds himself taking care of, and being mended, by a little girl named Clara Oswin Oswald. Rated T for heartbreak and occasional angst. Multi-chapter
1. Chapter 1

_My Impossible Girl_

_ A/N: Hey! So this is the start of a fluffy, angsty AU Doctor Who fanfic I've been wanting to write for awhile. Every chapter will be like a oneshot of the father and daughter I've put together, the Doctor's Eleventh Incarnation, and Clara. I know there are Whouffle shippers, but I've always imagined the Doctor and Clara as a daughter and father pair. I am definitely seeing that with Twelve, but I can't help but have a guilty Whouffle heart. Screw my ships, you're here to read! Please enjoy the beginning of this fanfic!_

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><p>She's wearing a red dress, and her long brown hair is plaited in pigtails.<p>

John Smith stares down at the little girl, his mind going wayward as this child, Clara, looks up at him. His new adopted daughter. A child he now has responsibility for, and a child he's going to raise on his own. He sighs, a sad little smile on his face. He thought it was impossible for him to recover from his state, but maybe with this child, he could achieve what he wanted: happiness.

How had it come to this? Amelia Pond. His best friend, ever since he was a child. Him and Amelia had grown up together in Leadworth, playing games of Doctors and Nurses together. Through middle school, high school and college, they were an impeccable pair, but were never romantically attached to the other. Many had thought so, but they were just friends. No more, no less. John could never see Amelia in that way. Scottish, she was, and much too loud of a voice for his preference. Amelia had agreed, saying that his chin was just too big for her. The two were a duo that could never be defeated, and everybody expected to see one with the other. Until River came along.

River Song. A woman of amazing skill, creative mind, and a wild heart that John Smith had fallen for. They met one night, late on the college campus. She was wildly drunk, and John, being the man he was, escorted her home, and the next morning, found her number in his iPhone. With that one call, the two grew to love each other with a burning passion. River was the perfect companion to John, who was studying to be a doctor. While John studied medicine, River studied history. Two opposite subjects that just intensified their love. Their relationship had blossomed, and River had been one of Amelia's bridesmaids when Amy got married to her longtime boyfriend, Rory Williams. River and John watched as Amelia and Rory became the Williams, and John had proposed marriage to River in inspiration of the happiness that emanated off of Amelia. River had agreed, and they thought they would be together forever, until John found himself alone at the altar on his wedding day.

With a broken heart and a crushed soul, John fell into a deep depression. Thirty years old, a degree in medicine, and he couldn't fix his own broken heart. It was with the support of the Williams family, and good friend David McDonald is that he managed to bring himself out of his hole, managing one day at a time. He regained the soul and energy to throw himself into his work, becoming head doctor at one of the wards in the local hospital, working alongside Rory, who's a nurse. Amelia and David had agreed that though John had mostly recovered, he wasn't all quite there. There used to be a spark, a bright light that just followed John wherever he went. And it was with good heart and connections, John Smith had gone to an adopting agency and applied to adopt a child. And that is how he found himself staring down at the little girl who stood on his doorstep, Amelia right behind her.

Clara Oswin Oswald. Her parents had died in an apparent hit and run accident when she was two. She's been at the orphanage since, and when John applied to adopt, it was Amelia and David who had chosen Clara. And now, little Clara stood on his doorstep, holding a picture book that read '101 Places To See'. Her suitcase was held by Amelia, and John stepped aside, letting the little girl into his small, yet cozy house.

"Clara? This is Mr. John, or John." David's Scottish accent was rather strong as he kneels beside the little girl. His brown hair is spiked up in its usual fashion, and he spoke to Clara with the deepest sincerity John has ever heard him use. "He's going to be taking care of you from now on."

"What about you and Miss Amelia?" Clara's words came out in a whisper, as though worried John would hear it and punish her. Amelia smiled, and kneels next to Clara as well, brushing a hand under Clara's chin.

"We'll visit, hon. John is a very good friend of me and Mr. David's. I promise we will."

"Okay, Miss Amelia."

" 'Atta girl," Amelia laughs softly, and ruffles her hair gently, "John is a very good man. He'll take care of you well."

"Oi, he better, or we'll be forced to come back." David adds in a teasing voice, and he straightens up to look at John. "Well, mate. I hope you don't screw this up."

"I don't think I can." These were the first words John had uttered since Clara had entered his house. Clara looks up in interest at John, really looking at him ever since she enters. Her brown eyes wander from his dark brown trousers, to his tweed blazer, and finally resting on his big, red bowtie that rests at his neck. She turns her attention back to Amelia and David, who both look at John with worry and hope.

"Well, John. I really hope you can do this."

"So do I."

"You've got this, mate." David offers his hand, and John takes it, shaking it firmly as his eyes flicker from David to Clara, who watches with curiosity. "If we didn't think you could do this, we wouldn't have brought her here."

"So, hush up, Raggedy Man." Amelia's special nickname for John was said as she quickly wraps her arms around him, a comforting hug. "We'll be checking on you two later this week, alright?"

"Yes, Amy."

"Yes, Miss Amy."

Clara and John answer Amy at the same time, and exchange dubious looks at they do. With one last hug and a handshake, David and Amy depart the small blue house, leaving John staring at Clara once more, as she holds her picture book in her hands, and her small red suitcase which was almost as big as her, lingering by her side. John stares down at the little girl, and she returns the look. John already knew at this point, it was not going to be easy.

"So, Clara...do you like fish fingers?"

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><p>An hour later, Clara sits at his dining table, having to sit on a cushion to be able to look over the table's surface. Her small hands are covered in bits of salt and pepper, as she finishes off the last of the fish fingers that were on her plate. Mr. John was gone, something about her suitcase. She looks around the kitchen, observing the simple decor and the less then elaborate set up. Nothing too fancy, just standard and cozy. The orphanage kitchen was much less nicer then the Mr. John's.<p>

Clara wasn't quite sure how she felt about Mr. John He seemed nice, quieter then Mr. David and a lot less energetic this Miss Amelia. He hasn't said much to her in the past hour, but he did explain that she would be living with him, and that if she needed anything, she just needs to ask. Though, something about him...Clara didn't quite understand. Even when he was smiling, he looked sad. Really sad. Something about his eyes were old, older then him. Clara thought he was the age of Miss Amelia and Mr. David, but his eyes were of one someone older. He had the same eyes as Mr. Duley at the orphanage. had lost his wife, Clara knew that, and he was sad. It was like that. Something sad had happened to Mr. John, and he was still sad.

Taking one last sip of milk, the five year old girl slips off the chair and her feet land flat onto the linoleum flooring. Her feet were cold against the floor, but she ignores it as she wiped her hands against her red dress, and she walks up to the fridge. It was what interested her the most so far, out of the entire house. There weren't a lot of photos anywhere in the house, but there was a bunch of them pinned on the refrigerator. She observed them from her height, having to look up to see them properly.

One of them, Mr. John and Miss Amy were together, sticking their tongues out and laughing. He looked happy, not so sad as now, Clara notes. Another one of him and Miss Amy, this time both of them wearing Mickey hats. But a third one, one pinned with a heart magnet, was interesting. Mr. John was holding the hands of a curly haired, blonde woman. He had the biggest smile on his face, and the woman was looking down at her hand. A big, shiny ring was on her middle finger, and in the background Miss Amy and Mr. David were grinning at the pair. Clara giggles at how big their smiles are, and sees, for the first time, how big Mr. John's chin was. Really big.

"Clara? Do you want me to leave your picture book, sweetie, or-?"

Clara finds John standing beside her, one of her dresses slung over his shoulder and her picture book in his arms. When he sees her looking at the fridge, there are a mix of emotions that are shown on his face. A smile. A frown. And almost something distant, like he lost something. He kneels next to Clara, offering her the picture book, and she takes it hesitantly. John kneels next to the girl, both of them now staring at the refrigerator.

" ...who is that woman?" Clara's small hand raises to point at the picture of him and that curly haired woman, with Miss Amy and Mr. David smiling. John's heart nearly breaks in two as she does, but he knew he must answer her question. Fighting the tears that threaten to appear and slide down his cheeks, he turns to the little girl, swallowing and taking a deep breath, like his therapist had told him to, and spoke.

"That...is a woman named River. River Song." Saying her name was just as bad as losing her. "I...we were friends."

"Is she still your friend?" Clara's words were so innocent, but it cut through John like a knife. She was still beautiful, so beautiful, but she would never be his friend again. She broke him. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head, choking on his words for a moment, before letting the next sentence out.

"No. Not anymore, my Clara."


	2. Chapter 2

_My Impossible Girl, chapter 2_

_ A/N: Hi, everybody! The reviews you left were super encouraging! I love those kind of reviews! I may add, this story doesn't exactly have a specific plot other then fluff, but I hope you enjoy it, anyway! Lots of love for Randomcat100, Winters-Dawn1221, Pineapple Angel 14, acciobowtie11 and JessicaWhoCouldEndTheWorld for your lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy the next installment of My Impossible Girl!_

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><p>John sat on the couch that night, the glow of the television illuminating his face as he thinks about the events of the past day. Clara, at the moment, the child, is asleep in the room across from his bedroom. He had made sure she take that guest room, so if she ever needed him, he would be there. Of course, he isn't exactly sure what he would do if she did ever need him, but he knew the basics: comfort, food, clothing, and love. He could cover the first three. But the last one, he isn't so sure. It's been so long since he could give the love he lost.<p>

River. Why hadn't he taken down those photos yet? He knew it isn't healthy to keep them up, but it's strange. It's been a year since the incident, since she betrayed his trust and broke his soul, but he couldn't quite let go. She had needed him, and he had needed her. And when you need someone, you love them so. Even more when they need you so much that you can't live without them. River made him into the man he is today. A Doctor. Doctor John Smith. Doctor John Smith with the beautiful archeologist by his side, Ms. River Song, or Smith, as he had hoped. Mr and Mrs Smith. The archeologist and the Doctor, changing the world and the course of history. They had promised each other over nights of passion and love, their fingers intertwined and their hearts singing one song. A song that's melody kept going, even without her.

But even if that song kept going, he had to keep going. He had Clara now...what could Clara possibly think of him? Would she see him as a father or a friend? He isn't quite sure what he wants to be, himself. He knew he couldn't replace the father she lost, but then again, she didn't quite remember Brian Oswald. She had been two years old, a miracle she had survived the crash. Ellie and Brian were buried side by side, with their little girl left alone in this world. John had read Clara's files, thanks to David's connections with the orphanage head, Ms. Noble. Clara had been at Noble's Orphanage since her parents death.

According to the files, Clara has always been a bit quiet, a bit curious, and just a bit interested in everything. That book that she had brought in with her was one of the things she had been allowed to keep that had been her parents. The rest went to relatives. Some aunts got jewlery, other cousins got precious coins, but Clara got the book. A special one. There were old pictures of Clara when she had been younger, and in a black and white background, Clara was flipping through the picture book, ignoring the children in the background. She seemed just a bit quiet, and enjoyed being by herself.

So, what could John do? He didn't quite know what Clara needed now. Did she need a friend? A father? Or a familiar face? If it had been him, he would of needed all three, but Clara seemed brave, even at a young age. From mere observation, John knew she's still a bit hesistant about him, remaining quiet when he asked if she ever needed something. She had eaten the fish fingers with vigor, maybe she didn't eat much at the orphanage. And when she had gone to bed, he asked her if she wanted the lights to be left on, but she had shaken her head. Little Clara, an impossible girl. His head is mangled and thoughts are thrown in a mix of confusion. John stares at the television, watching the mindless, numb aching show that was on. It was nearly three in the morning at this point, he supposed he should get some rest...

"M-Mr. John?"

A soft whisper of a voice is heard, and he turns his head to see Clara, looking tired and worn, her eyes full of fear. She held onto the quilt that was left on the bed, and it trailed behind her as she came closer to the couch. She's dressed in the soft red pyjamas that had been among the limited number of clothing in her suitcase. He offers a soft smile, turning down the television quickly.

"Yes, Clara?"

"I...I had a nightmare."

"Nightmare?" Why would a child already be having nightmares?

"I...I can't sleep."

"Well," John replies, letting himself up off the couch, "We'll have to fix that, won't we?"

Clara remains quiet as John turned the television on mute, and walked over to her side. Offering his hand, he doesn't blame her when she returns the gesture with a neutral expression. Sighing, he guides her to the kitchen, and helps her onto the chairs. He reminds himself to buy smaller chairs, and maybe a smaller table, as he watches Clara struggle to pull herself up all the way. When she sits, she wraps the quilt around her shoulders, watching John with wide eyes. Turning his back, he looks into the cupboard, searching for the kettle. Filling it with water, he turns the stove on and sets the kettle on the heat, letting it begin to boil. He feels Clara's gaze as he turns and pulls out one of the packets of hot chocolate out of the cupboard as well. Pouring an equal amount of poweder into each mug, he hears the soft whistle of the kettle, and pours the hot water. The powder and the water mix, creating a rich, dark brown drink in the mugs. Setting down the blue one in front of her, he holds his own, and gives her a comical smile.

"Cheers."

He takes a sip of the drink, and maintains a smile for a moment, before spitting it out all of the sudden. Yuck! Bitter! Too bitter! Too much powder, not enough water. He hears a soft giggle as he turns to wash his mouth out, chugging sink water and spitting it all out. He had added too much powder, not enough water. And he couldn't fill the mug anymore. Shaking his head, he turns towards Clara who looks at her mug with disdain. He couldn't agree with her more, as she pushes the mug away from her.

"Can't even make hot chocolate," John mumbles, as he takes her mug and his own, dumping it into the sink. He watches as the powder slowly drains down into the sink, and he shakes his head. Turning back towards the girl, he is surprised to find somewhat of a smile on her face. Her smile makes his own threaten to appear. He sits down in front of her, holding his head in his hands.

"Ugh, sorry, Clara. I should have read the instructions."

"It's alright, Mr. John..." He notes her voice was just a bit louder, more audible. Maybe she was beginning to grow warmer to him? In that case, he should ruin hot chocolate more often.

"Hey, you know you don't have to call me Mr. John," he says, leaning close to the girl, "Call me John. Mr. John makes me sound old."

"How old are you?" She pipes, and John doesn't fight the laughter that begins to bubble up from the bottom of his throat, and he lets out a hearty cry.

"Oh, Clara...I am old. So, so old..." It wasn't physically true, but in his heart, he felt like it. The heartbreak and recovery from River was merely a year, but in truth, it felt like millions.

"Like...one hundred?"

"Not that old, do I look that old?" He asks, a teasing tone in his voice. He looks down at his clothes, and realizes maybe he did. His clothes were rather...retro. A wrinkled white collared shirt. A bowtie. Trousers, and shoes. A stain on the white shirt, and his bowtie had lost its bright purple color. It was the one River had gotten for him on their first Christmas together...no. Can't think about that. Cannot think about River. He fights the urge to break into tears at the thought of her, and forces a smile on his face.

"You are as old as Miss Amy, right?" Clara asks, wrapping the blue and white quilt more firmly around her small frame. John nods, and there is a moment of silence between the two, before he speaks again.

"Clara...do you like Miss Amy?"

"Yeah," she replies, looking down at her legs, swinging high in the air because her legs didn't touch the ground, "She's really nice. She bought me a book before we came here."

"She did?"

"Yes. It's in the suitcase." Once again, silence. John isn't quite sure what else to talk about for a moment, as what he said about Amy had what he hoped would be, a starter to a conversation. However, Clara seems tired, and unwilling to talk tonight. Jumping up from his seat, he sees Clara's eyes widen slightly in surprise as he goes and pulls two water glasses out of the cupboard.

"Water? I can't screw that up, can I?" When he's met with a slight giggle, he feels pride as he fills the two glasses with water from the cooler. Setting it down in front of her, her tiny fingers reach out and wrap around the glass, and with careful delicacy, she takes a few large sips, before she wipes her mouth and looks at John again. John smiles, and takes another large sip. Wiping his mouth, and sighing happily. When she copies his actions, he can't help but let his smile grow. She is quite adorable.

"So...Clara...how long have you been at the orphanage?" He knew it was a touchy subject, but David and Amelia had failed to tell him her age. So he knew he must ask her himself, because if he hears it from David and Amelia, it'll just look odd. An adopted parent who didn't know the age of his own child.

"Three years."

Five, then. She must be five. He lets himself pause, before opening his mouth to talk. Instead, Clara beats him to it, speaking first for the first time since she's arrived.

"Mr. John...why do you want me here?"

A question that shatters his heart. He lets temporary shock on his face show, before he shakes his head. Why did he want Clara? It wasn't a question he asked himself at all. But...why? For his own benefit, because he was so lonely? Or for her own, a child with no one to take her part? He needed someone to give that love that River abandoned, he thinks. And Clara needs love. The orphanage have done their best, but they can't give her the love a parent could give. The love Ellie and Brian Oswald had given.

"Because...Clara...well..."

Hesitation.

"Clara, I need a friend. You see, that woman, there?" He points to the pictures on the refrigerator, "She was a very very close friend...but...she left me." His upper lip quivers. "Sh-She...she left me. And I need a friend, Clara. Someone I can rely on."

"..."

"I know it sounds mad. And maybe...well, I'm just a mad man with a box." John finishes the rest of his water, managing to have gotten through the sentence without a tear. River had given him that name, the mad man with a box. "But even mad men need friends."

"I...I can be your friend, Mr. John." Little Clara speaks out, her tiny voice holding words that held so much faithful promise, so much hope. "I'll be your friend, Mr. John."

"...and I will be yours, Clara."

"Pinky promise?" Clara holds out her pinky finger, and John slowly reaches over the table, his large pinky intertwining with hers, a hope for the years to come. The Doctor John and his Impossible Clara.

"Promise."


	3. Chapter 3

_My Impossible Girl, chapter 3_

_ A/N: Hello, everybody! I am so glad you all think Clara is cute! Lots of thanks to geogirl2014, Codename-Valkyrie, Guest, hunn E, Winters-Dawn1221, Randomcat1832, acciobowtie11, Littlemissthunderbird and the impossible girl 123 for your reviews! I'm really happy you're all enjoying this story so far, and I am too! So, enjoy the next installment of "My Impossible Girl", and if you like it, or love it, don't forget to review!_

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><p>It's about 8 in the morning, and Clara Oswin Oswald is awake. Her brown eyes are wide open, staring at the dark ceiling above. The room is just barely illuminated by morning light, the shade of munsell blue casting a cool glow over the bedroom where she stays. The warm blanket that covers her body is comforting, thick and just the right size for her body. Not too big, but not too tiny, either. Her brown hair is fanned out over her pillow, her locks tangled into knots. Since the events of last night, she had fallen into an uneasy rest, as uneasy as it could be for a five year old girl.<p>

Clara hasn't known a true home in her five years of life. Her parents were dead, and she had lived in the orphanage run by Ms. Noble and her Dad, Mr. Wilfred. They were a kind caretakers, but they weren't exactly the parent figure she needed in her life. Mrs. Noble was sometimes too loud and her loud voice would scare her, and she would cover her ears when others got disciplined. And Mr. Wilfred was nice, but he's always talking about a doctor or something, and it made all the children at the orphanage think he needs a doctor, like he is crazy. They weren't exactly the parents the kids needed. Those who came to the orphanage, kids like her, needed parent figures. Parents who fuss when you're not wearing matching socks, when that one hair is out of place or if that one button is undone. Parents who embarass you at soccer events and assume every person of opposite gender you talk to has a crush on you. Parents. Clara has always dreamed of having a Mom and a Dad, one she can remember, but she never pictured a man as odd as Mr. John to be her Dad.

Mr. John. He's a sad man, she knew that well enough. He's goofy sometimes, and kind, like when he made her that hot chocolate when she couldn't sleep, but there is just something sad about him. Like he's missing something that he needs. Mrs. Noble had taught at the orphanage sometimes, and she would tell the kids the basic elements of life: shelter, food, water, clothing, and someone to love you. Mr. John had all of that, she knew that. His small blue house is odd, but charming. He had enough food and water, she saw in his refrigerator. And his clothing, a bowtie and a wrinkled white shirt, paired with suspenders and trousers, were funny. He's a funny man. Raggedy, even. But Clara had asked him who that woman was, in the pictures. The one with the pretty green eyes and blonde really curly hair. And he just looked sad, when he said it was a friend who wasn't his friend anymore. Did she make that same promise, Clara thinks, and broke it? To not be with him when he needs him?

You aren't supposed to break promises, even Clara knew that.

Sighing, Clara slowly pushes the covers off her body, the blanket laying astray on the bed. After sliding off the bed with a THUMP, she pushes the cover back, and they covered the big pillow Mr. John had provided for her. Staring at it for a moment, she lays down on the ground, belly first, and extends her small arm towards the space underneath the bed. Once her hand felt that plastic red handle, she pulls it towards herself, and smiles when she sees the yellow suitcase. Mr. John had already helped her put away her clothes in the white drawers, but here, she kept the picture book that was left from her Mom. 101 Places To See. She thumbs through the picture books, seeing amazing places she knew she would see one day. Green, rich forests in North America. Wild, humid jungles in South America. Big, blue oceans like in the east, and a glittering city on the coast of an ocean. Somewhere in America, she couldn't quite remember the name. She just stares and stares and stares, always amazed by the photos that were in the book that was left behind by her mother. She's looked through this book about a million times before, and she never got tired of it. Never.

"Clara?"

The girl jumps, the picture book nearly flying out of her hands, and she manages to catch, and ends up clutching it to her chest. The door is slowly pushed open, and she sees Mr. John looking dishevelled in a big blue t-shirt and a pair of black pyjama pants. His hair is messy, and his wide eyes are filled with curiosity as she stares up at him.

"Sorry...I...I didn't know you were awake. I...I was thinking, maybe you would like to wash up? Or breakfast? How about some breakfast?"

He claps his hands together, as though excited about it.

"Yes, yes. Breakfast! Always important. What do you like, Clara? Bacon? Eggs? Sausages? Toast? I've always liked pancakes, but been rubbish at making them...how about I call Miss Amelia and Mr. David over for breakfast?" He sees her eyes light up at the mention of his friends, and he knew it was a good idea, "Yes, yes! And we can go out later, to the park? Would you like that, Clara?"

When she nods excitedly, he jumps to his feet, spinning around in his odd pyjamas. He nearly loses his balance and grabs the handle of the door to keep himself from falling down. Clara giggles as he gives her a sheepish smile, and he pulls himself upright, and out of her room. Heading towards his bedroom, he picks up the phone and dials Amelia's number. He places it onto speaker phone as he rummages through his drawers, trying to find something to wear.

"Amy? Ammmyyyy! Pick up!" He calls as he pulls out a white collared shirt. Throwing off his big blue t-shirt, he hears her familiar Scottish drawl as he pulls the shirt over his head.

_"Oi, John, what is it? It's only eight in the mornin'!"_

"Oh, sorry, were you asleep? Did you want to go back to sleep? Bad habits, sleeping in. Early bird gets the worm, Pond!"

_"We're not birds, John, but since I'm already awake, what do you want?"_

"I was wondering if you'd like to come over today! You, Rory and David come over for breakfast with Clara!" He yells as he goes to the far corner of his bedroom. Nearly hitting his head against the lamp, he pulls on a pair of fresh trousers, and then goes into his closet, looking at the hooks in front of him. He selects his red suspenders, and clips them on happily.

_"Honestly, John? It's only been a day! Are you that worried she's already hating you?"_

"No, far from it, actually!" He laughs as he comes out of his closet, spinning on the spot. He looks rather spiffy, if he says so himself. He pulls the drawer of his desk open, and smiles when he finds it. Wrapping it around his neck, he ties it in the usual fashion, and grin when he catches sight of his appearance in the mirror. Big red bow tie. Suspenders. But he's missing something, just something new. "Amelia, please?"

_"Alright, Raggedy Man. I suppose I can call off work. Not sure if Rory can come, but I can get him to. And Raggedy Man?"_

"Yes, Pond?"

_"No bowtie."_

"Bowties are cool."

_"Are not."_

He grins as he hears her scowl through the phone. "Bye, bye, Pond!" He calls, before hanging up abruptly. Staring at himself in the full length mirror, he wonders how Clara will see him. He did look funny, Amelia was right. He hasn't worn the bowtie or the suspenders in awhile, and seeing them now reminded himself of when he and River-

No. Can't think about that right now.

Looking into his closet, he sees a tweed blazer hanging lonely on the other side. Grinning, he pulls it on, and when he straightens it out, he sees the man he was before River had left him. Happy. A happy, strange, mad man. And now, he felt more like it. Humming, he dials David's number quickly, and picks up his mobile as he hears the dial tone.

Setting it on the kitchen table, he sets it onto speaker mode, before beginning to wash his hands. Scrubbing them at the kitchen sink, he hears a low groan on the other side of the phone call.

_"John, it is almost 8:30 in the morning. Why are you calling me?"_

"Morning, Sand Shoes!" John sings, as he pulls out a carton of eggs out of his fridge. He proceeds to speak as he carries out the milk, eggs, butter, sugar, and an assortment of things as he continues to speak to David.

"I was wondering if you'd like breakfast, here? I've invited Amelia and I was wondering if you could come!"

_"John, I had a long shift last night. Do you really expect me to-?"_

"Oh, come on, Sand Shoes!" John knew David hated that nickname, "Clara loves you! And besides, maybe we'll find you a woman! You're barely out and about these days."

_"John, a woman needs a man as much as a fish needs a bicycle. But I guess I could. How is Lil' Clara, anyway?"_

"Rather well, I haven't screwed anything up, it seems," John replies, as he places a frying pan on the stove. Setting it onto high heat, he pours a reasonable amount of oil into the pan. Beginning to prepare the egg mixture, he whisks and adds milk to the eggs, before pouring it into the pan, "She seems timid at the moment. But the only reason she seems happy is because you and Amelia are coming over."

_"Clara is used to Amelia and I. You, Chinny? Are gonna take some getting used to."_

"Oi! Watch it, Sand Shoes!"

_"Make me! Anyway, I'll be right over. See you soon."_

"Aurevoir, David!" John sings as he pours the scrambled eggs onto a platter. He hopes he's made enough, as there will be approximately four of them, five if Amelia brings that Rory fellow. Getting to cooking, he loses himself into the art, making a platter of bacon, some toast, his favorite pancakes and just in case, bringing out the cereal. Some Froot Loops (John isn't sure why cereal makers can't spell things right) and Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Kids liked that stuff, right?

As he sets the last of the food on the table, he hears the strange whirring noise that his doorbell makes. It's supposed to sound like the engine of a Ferrari, but lately, it's gone downhill, and sounds like an engine dying, like a car coughing. Smiling, he puts down the pitcher of apple juice onto his round wooden table, and nearly sprints over to the door. When he opens it, he laughs happily as he sees his favorite Scottish girl and her husband.

"Amelia! And Rory, how are you?" He laughs as he hugs both of them tightly. Amelia looked absolutely pleased to be there, while Rory just looks a bit less enthusiatic. He must be tired, as he is a nurse. He must of had the late shift.

"Wonderful, John. And yourself?" Amelia asks, but before he could respond, Amelia suddenly darts past John and Rory laughs. John is temporarily confused, before turning around, and seeing a sight that melted his heart.

Little Clara is hugging Amelia happily, looking absolutely pleased. Amelia was babbling happy questions, while Clara remains quiet while her little arms are wrapped around Amy. John is pleased to find out she can dress herself quite well, wearing a bright yellow t-shirt and a pair of overalls. Her hair is still in knots, but as Amy takes her hand, he hears the two talking about hair, and Amelia offers to brush it out and plait it. Clara, agreeing, looks at John for a moment before following Amelia to the bathroom to brush it out. John feels his heart soar. Clara's smile is just too precious, too happy to be gone. He wanted to see it for years and years. Is that what being a father is?

"Amy will spoil her to bits, you know." Rory comments from behind him, and John turns around, seeing Rory chuckling and shaking his head. "Since, you know, we can't..."

"She can spoil Clara all she likes," John replies, knowing the Williams dilemma. Amelia is infertile, after a medical incident when she was sixteen. Though Rory had always wanted children, he had loved Amelia more then any of them ever knew, and asked her to marry him anyway, knowing he wouldn't be able to have children. The Williams would be great parents, John knew, and would be amazing examples for himself, had fate not been cruel, "She deserves it."

* * *

><p>David had joined the group about half an hour later, and after a hearty good breakfast, the friends and Clara had set out towards the park. It's now about noon, and John, Clara and David walk along the sidewalk, pointing out fascinating things to Clara. At the moment, Clara is just a bit more attached to David, as she has known him for a bit longer, but John didn't mind. He had expected it. The sky is a brilliant blue, with clouds of white decorating it every now and then. The sun shone brightly as the trio walks along the path, pointing out delicate flowers and beautiful butterflies.<p>

Soon, the three grew tired, and sat down on a bench nearby, Clara in the middle of the two men. David, having spotted a nearby ice cream truck, beckons the two to walk just a bit more for ice cream. Clara and John both jumped up immediately, and within a few more paces, they stood in front of an ice cream truck.

"What would you like Clara?" John asks, as he looks down at the little girl. She's well below the service window of the truck, and when John offers his hand, she lets him take it. John slowly picks her up, and reads to her the different names of the ice creams. She is hesistant, being careful, then picks a chocolate. John, grinning, orders a custard flavored ice cream (which the truck had) and a small chocolate. The blonde woman who gives them their scoops, grins a wide grin at David. David, finding her smile alluring, introduces himself, and John rolls his eyes as he hands the cone over to Clara. The pair decides to leave David at the ice cream truck, as the woman introduces herself as Rose.

Soon, the two sit on the bench by themselves, licking contently at their frozen treats. John is quiet, as he consumes his ice cream, and looks down at Clara for a moment. She is careful, licking the ice cream every now and then. When she catches him looking at her, she gives him a rare smile. John grins back, as the two stare at the wide green park, a beautiful fountain in the center of it, and trees, towering greens, everywhere. It was beautiful. He finishes off his ice cream, the nice chill feeling of the treat even enhancing his peace. And for once, John did not feel the pressure of raising Clara, or the throbbing heartache from River. For the first time in his life, he is worry free, here with his Clara.

"Mr. John?"

He looks down, seeing Clara has tugged onto his sleeve. She's finished her ice cream, and the cone, as he suspects from the crumbs on the corner of her mouth. "Yes, Clara?"

"Can we...make a wish in the fountain?"

"Yes! Of course!" John stands up, brushing some brumbs off his shirt and blazer. "I've got coins! Let us go!" He offers his hand, and is thrilled, when she takes it. Laughing, he runs with her, his legs stretching and his heart racing as the pair run towards the fountain. He feels his heartbeat quicken, his pulse arise, but he didn't care. He looks down while they run, to see Clara laughing happily alongside him. This is what happy is. That feeling of being weightless, of being carefree and content. That is what happy is. He hasn't felt this in a long time.

Handing Clara a coin, he watches her tiny face. She scrunches up her tiny button nose, closes her eyes, before throwing it as hard as she can into the streaming fountain. The coin lands with a tiny _plink!_ And she looks towards him expectantly, after they see the coin falling down to the bottom of the fountain.

"What did you wish for, Clara?"

"Secret."

"Oi, I thought we were friends?" John pretends to pout, and Clara giggles, shaking her head.

"No, you're not supposed to _tell_ your wish, Mr. John." She explains, "But you should make a wish."

"Me? A wish?"

"Yes."'

"Why so?"

"Everybody wants a wish. What do you want, Mr. John?"

Such a complicated question for a broken man.

"I don't want much, Clara, but I still can't tell you. Secret, remember?"

He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a copper coin. Smiling, he turns to the little girl, faking concentration, before throwing the coin rather ridiculously into the fountain. Instead of a tiny _plink! _It's more of a tiny tidal wave crashing over the border of the fountain. Clara squeals in surprise, and John smiles widely, seeing his Clara laugh. It would be worth it. Maybe Amelia is right. Maybe it is Clara that he needs in his life. And when he made that wish, it wasn't for River to come back, or for a promotion, or anything superficial. No, it was something happy, something simple, and something utterly hopeful.

For Clara to be happy. That is his wish.


	4. Chapter 4

_My Impossible Girl, chapter 4_

_ A/N: Lots of love for my reviewers! I'm so glad you all enjoyed chapter 3! Note: Yes, there will be appearances by Wilf and Donna in this story, and if you guys got any suggestions on anything fluffy you'd like to see, PM me! I'd gladly listen to your suggestions! Thanks to my reviewers, JackHarknessWouldLookGoodInAFez, Randomcat1832, Littlemissthunderbird, Winters-Dawn1221, dark-thyme-lord and acciobowtie11 for your lovely reviews! On to the next installment of My Impossible Girl, my lovelies! I do not own Disney's Wreck it Ralph, I am merely using it for my story and no claims of ownership is being shown. Note, this is a noticeably shorter chapter then the last, but it is a bit bittersweet, so I hope it makes up for it in length_

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><p>"C'mon, Mr. John! C'mon, c'mon!"<p>

"I'm coming, Clara! I'm coming!"

John about trips over the air as he rushes into his living room. On the soft carpeted ground, is his Clara, clutching a gigantic pillow. He sets the bowl of fresh buttered popcorn onto the carpet in front of her, and a tray of sodas on the side table. He sits onto the couch above her, grinning down at her. The DVD player flashes to life, and the living room becomes dark, leaving the Doctor and his Clara in their thoughts as the film begins to roll.

It's about eight, late at night. After dinner, John had asked Clara if she would like to watch a film together after dinner, just to wind down. When she had agreed, he let her have an hour of playtime in her room (or whatever she did, he hadn't bought her any toys yet, so he supposed she read that book), while he researched recent popular children's films. He hasn't been too up to date with the latest 3D animated films, so he went onto his laptop and did his research of popular films in the past three years or so. After an hour of research, including two phone calls to Amelia and David, he had settled on the film "Wreck it Ralph." It looked fun, with the great characters, and all the characters reminded him of when he was a boy, playing video games to cope with his loneliness. Asking Clara if she had wanted to see if, she had squealed excitedly and quickly got dressed in a red nightgown while John popped some popcorn and poured some Cola for the two. He absolutely adored Cola, along with fish fingers, his custard and Jammie Dogers. He would have snacked on those during the film, if he had any. He made a mental note to buy some next time he went out.

_"My name's Ralph, and I'm a bad guy. Uh, let's see..."_

"Mr. John, is he a bad guy?"

"Yes, Clara."

"Then why is the movie about him?"

"Well, we'll see, my Clara...we'll see..."

_ "We can't change who we are."_

"Mr. John?"

"Yes, Clara?"

"What's a Bad-Anon?"

"It's...It's..." John pauses the movie while he tries to figure out how to explain what it meant. He couldn't use alcoholics anonymous, Clara probably didn't even know what an alcoholic is! He purses his lips, thinking hard. In this context, he had to try to think of another way to explain it. "It's when people like them come together to talk about how they are nice, even though the world sees them as mean."

"Why do they see them as mean?"

"Because that's their job, in their game."

"But why can't they just be nice?"

"Well, because their job in their game-"

"No, I mean the others in the game. Why can't the nice characters be nice?"

This hit hard to home. John pauses, his mouth opening, struggling to figure out what to say next. How could a five year old figure out what societies can't figure out in years. Why can't the nice people figure out that the people they view as different, as mean, are actually nice? Because their stereotypes and occupations already makes you think them as something different, but in reality, they are the same as you. They are the same as you, screw what the objectives of society says. It's something as simple as that, and why does his five year old adopted daughter figure it out faster then most of the world does? John grows a bit misty eyed, but he turns away a moment, taking a large sip of soda. The fizz of the soda burns his throat slightly, but he ignores it, and hits PLAY again.

_"It's game over for both of you!_

_ "No! Just for me!"_

_ "Ralph!_

_ "Vanellope!"_

_ "I'm bad! And that's good! I'll never be good! And that's not bad!"_

"There's no one I'd rather be then me."

Clara looks behind her, at the sound of a sniffle, though heartily saddened by the film, and sees Mr. John leaning forward, his elbows braced on his knees. His eyes are sad, full of tears, and she sees him looking as sad as he did first time she met him. It was his voice that echoed along with the film. She looks towards the screen, as Ralph's gigantic fist collided with the mountain. Setting down her pillow, she slowly gets up and pulls herself up next to Mr. John on the couch. Sliding herself next to him, she places her tiny hand on his arm. He turns his head towards the little girl, and when she squeezes his arm, he pauses the film and wraps his arms around Clara. She lets him hold her as he lets quiet tears leak onto his shoulder. Clara knew Mr. John has always been a sad man, and that he missed his friend, and she knew as a friend, she should be there for him. Little Impossible Clara, holding her friend Mr. John close as she could. They were both missing something, and they had enough to hold each other together.

After a good few minutes of crying, John pulls back, looking down at his Clara. He smiles down bitterly at her, and carefully runs a hand through her long brown hair.

"Thank you, Clara."

"I promised, Mr. John. To be your friend. So I am. Why were you sad."

"...Clara, I...I am a funny man, right?"

"Very funny."

"Well, I am also a very very mad man...a bit mad, actually."

"Mad?"

"But...I am also a sad man, Clara. I told you about my friend that I lost, right?"

"Yes."

"She was the one who told me to be no one but me. And I believed her."

"Then why did she leave you?"

_Because she's the devil in heels. Because she never truly loved me. _

"I don't know, my Clara, I don't know."

_Maybe I didn't deserve her love_

"I think it's because she didn't understand." Her soft voice catches John's attention, as he looks down at her. Her little hand is gripping his arm tighter then he remembered it before. He didn't know a five year old girl could have such a strong grip. "She didn't understand that you're very mad. And very funny."

_Oh, Clara_

"Ms. Noble said people don't like what they don't understand." Clara pauses, before biting her lip, "Because since they don't understand, they don't like it."

_How I wish it was this simple._

"I guess so." John forces a smile onto his face, before slowly bringing Clara into his arms. As she crawls into his lap, he presses play, and is glad to find the film that is giving him tears has a happy ending. Seeing Ralph accept himself and being accepted by the others. Vanellope getting the world she wanted. In a way, he supposed he and Clara were like them. An odd bunch with nowhere to go, and finding it's okay to not be good. It's okay to be mad, as long as you have someone to hold your hand.

_"Cause if that little kid likes me, how bad can I really be?"_

* * *

><p>After the film, Clara was tucked into her bed, John stood in the doorway of her bedroom, grinning at the little girl who held her picture book close in her hands. The lamp beside her cast a soft glow across the room, not bright enough to keep her awake, but bright enough to let her read her book, or at least look at the pictures. John bites his lip, as he watches her face light up every time she flipped a page. What childlike amazement she held, he forgot what it was like to be a child. He was a child in himself, until River had left. Now, he was recovering that lost childlike quality in him, one his friends had always admired. Taking a deep breath, he takes one of the tiny child sized chairs and sits it next to her bed. Managing to fit his butt onto the chair, he smiles as Clara has paused in her readings, watching Mr. John.<p>

"Clara, what're you reading?"

"A book my Mummy left behind for me. One "o" One places to see." John forces himself not to laugh as she calls 101 as one 'o one. He leans over to her side, to read the book. Simple sentences anyone could read, but the pictures that were captured in the book were amazing. A photographer in every country was probably employed to create this book, because John has seen photos of the world, but nothing like this.

"Can you read it?" He questions, and Clara shakes her head vigorously. "Well, we'll have to fix that. D'you want me to read what each sentence says to you? Best place to learn is by having someone read to you and explain it."

"Yes, please."

"Alrighty, then," John shifts the book so it lingers at the edge of the bed, in the middle of the two, "I'm going to read this page, okay? And you can guess where the photo is. Alright?"

"Okay!"

"Lovely! So...'A big great forest with fields of green. It's somewhere where people will never be mean.' Oo! Rhymes! I love rhymes! Clara, dear, what does the picture look like to you?"

"Lots of trees. A big blue sky. And a big white bird!"

"What bird do you think that is?"

"A seagull? Or a dove?"

"I think it is, my Clara."

Their game of reading and guessing the pictures went on for another good hour, before John decided it was time for his Clara and himself to sleep. He hadn't been sure whether Clara could read or not, but seeing as she couldn't, he found himself wondering about school opportunities. It was just the end of the school year, so he'd have to wait for the new year. He had wanted Clara to be able to read, and write like a normal kid should. He isn't sure if she had had those opportunities at the orphanage, but with him, she will have every dream she could possibly hope for. As long as it wasn't going to destroy the world, she should be able to have everything John couldn't have growing up.

Finishing up the last sentence, he ruffles her hair.

"Ah, that's good, Clara. We can continue this tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, Mr. John!"

"That's my girl!"

"Um...Mr. John?"

"Yes?"

"Can...um...you t-teach me how to read one day?"

"Of course!" John jumps up excitedly, almost hitting his head against the doorframe, "Books! Books are the foundation of this world, my Clara! Just you wait! You'll be reading Shakespeare before you're 12!"

"Shakespeare?"

"Ah, we'll get there, Clara. Get some rest, now."

"Goodnight, Mr. John."

"Goodnight, my Clara...my impossible Clara."


	5. Chapter 5

_My Impossible Girl, chapter 5_

_ A/N: Hey, everybody! Sorry about the late update, it's just been one crazy thing after another! I swear I'm going to try and update more! I'm sorry. Anyway, lots of love to my reviewers of the last chapter, Randomcat1832, Nikki Pond, acciobowtie11 and Littlemissthunderbird. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

><p>The following morning, John watches from the doorway as Clara sleeps in, her brown, tousled hair splayed out on the soft yellow pillow. Last night, the pair had stayed up later then usual, about 10:00. Clara, being the young body girl she is, needed to sleep around at least 8:30. With the film from last night lasting at least until 9:00, and then reading together was about an hour. In total, she stayed up an hour and a half later then she should have. Though John was not a children's doctor, he did have basic knowledge of sleeping patterns of certain ages, and Clara, being about five, was supposed to be in bed by 8:30. At the very least, 9:00. She wouldn't wake till late today.<p>

Smiling as she turns over in her sleep, John gently closes the door, stepping into the hallway. He walks down the hallway, contemplating his work schedule. Lately, he's managed to avoid going to work, booking off shifts so he could spend the first few days knowing Clara. But lately, he realizes he's got to return to work, some way, some how. It was at least late August, and school would be starting soon. He's looked into a few elementary schools nearby, but he isn't sure which one he would like to choose. Coal Hill sounded lovely, but it was fairly costly. He did get by easily with the salary he made as a doctor, but he could still worry. Entering the living room, he sits onto the couch to enjoy some morning television, turning the television on with his remote control. Thrilled to see Benedict Cumberbatch's face on the screen, he enjoys the episode "The Great Game" for a solid hour, and when it finishes, he auto tunes 'A Scandal In Belgravia' later that night, late after Clara's bedtime. He decides to start breakfast.

Which was easier said then done. Though he had been a fair chef the first time he and Clara had breakfast, he realizes that it was all spontaneous luck. That the fluffy white and yellow eggs he had served had been a guess of perfect timing, and now, he found a plate of brown, crumbled eggs on the plate. The pancakes, though he was very good at making the batter, burned, due to his lack of attention, while he was trying to figure out how to make fresh squeezed orange juice minus the juicer. In the end, he stares at the pitiful stack of pancakes, burned eggs and a pulpy, really gross orange sort of substance in glasses. He frowns at them, wrinkling his nose. Deciding to take Clara out for breakfast, he sweeps the entire thing into the garbage can, and just manages to finish washing the dishes when he hears the soft pitter patter of her feet.

"Morning, Clara." he greets, a bit too cheerily, as she walks into the kitchen, her tiny nose wrinkling a little bit as she walks into the kitchen. "Sleep well?"

"Yeah..." Her brown eyes linger on the stove just a bit, before they turn back to John. "Are we going to have breakfast?"

"But of course!" John kneels down to her height, a soft smile on his face, as he ruffles her hair just a bit. "Would you like to go out, today? Stretch your legs and we can buy breakfast. Maybe head around the neighborhood? Would that be okay, sweetie?"

He gets a mere nod in response, and grins as she totters off to her bedroom. Grinning as he turns the fan off, the smell of smoke beginning to disappear from his kitchen. He hoped he would be able to take her around, see what she actually did like. He knew she liked to read, she liked ice cream and that she enjoys Disney movies, but he wanted to know everything. If she was shy or spontaneous. Feisty or quiet. Who is Clara Oswald? He's had his bonding, but he wanted to see what she really is like. And he supposes, he'll find out today.

* * *

><p>"Yum!"<p>

John resists the urge to laugh as Clara finishes the last of her cubed hash browns. He himself enjoyed them immensely, but seeing the bright smile on her face is enough to make John's heart heal deeply from River's betrayal.  
>John had taken Clara to a nearby breakfast diner, specializing in comfort foods. When they made it, they didn't have to wait as most would, due to the fact John is friends with the head chef, a friend of Amelia's, Melody. As soon as she saw him, she laughed and quickly cleared a small booth for two, smirking as she saw Clara, and raised an eyebrow in his direction. Ignoring it, he ordered a small plate of french toast and hash browns, and Clara ordered a small stack of rainbow pancakes and hash browns, with a cup of apple juice. With a wink, Melody had brought their breakfast quickly in a mere five minutes. Laughing, he takes one last sip of his coffee, he wipes the crumbs off his chest. He is quiet as she begins to color on the children's menu, watching her color in the rocket ship drawing that is on the menu, but after paying for their meals by the kind waitress, he realizes she's staring.<p>

"What is it?"

"You...You have a little..." She points to her own chin, and John feels his chin, though abnormally large, and finds a large crumb of french toast stuck to his chin. He grins as he pulls it off and flicks it away, and she giggles.

"Why, thank you, Clara."

"Welcome, Mr. John." She folds up the coloring menu, maybe to finish it off later, and taking his hand, he helps her out of the small red booth, and gives Melody a bright smile as the pair walked out of the diner. Taking her hand, the pair walk down the street, narrowly avoiding a woman on a motorcycle. Scowling, John's grip tightens as she walks down the street and walks along the sidewalk, passing a series of small shops. John notes that she's quiet as they pass video game shops, and clothing shops. But he hears a tiny gasp as they pass a rather spacious bookstore, and he smiles as she presses her small face against the glass. In the display window was a great, beautifully illustrated children's atlas. Leather bound, there was a tiny sign that read it was on sale for 70% this week.

"Would you like to go inside, Clara?" He asks, and he gets an excited nod. Nearly getting dragged into the shop, he almost trips over a book abandoned near the bookshelf. Finding his hand slipping out of hers, he watches as she runs towards the children's shelf, and picks out the atlas in the store window. Leather pound, gold writing, but inside, simple words a child could understand. It provided detailed, correct information, with more recent photographs of the world, of even more beautiful scenes then the one in the book her mother gave her. She stares at it in awe, as John watches from the entrance, his heart melting as she sits on the ground and begins to read it, with wide eyes.

He leaves her to her own devices for awhile, walking around the bookstore. Picking out a few bestselling novels that have recently made the New York's Times lists. Picking out a Y/A novel, he felt no shame at all. He knew that people would judge him, an adult reading Y/A, but he really found no fault in that at all. It was just a novel, the same as any other novel, and he wasn't that old! He had an old soul, maybe, but he is a mere twenty six years old. Heading over to her side, he squats beside her, wondering if she would come to notice him beside her, but when her head fails to rise from the book, he merely settles beside her and crosses his legs, reading the novel.

Soon, an hour has passed and John finds himself immersed in his novel. A slight tug on his leg is felt, and he looks to his side to find Clara's wide brown eyes flickering open and close. She seemed tired.

"Mr. John, can we buy the books now?"

"Why, of course!" He scoops the huge children's atlas in his arms, and nearly stumbles with the combined weight of both books. She giggles as he has to catch himself with the shelf, and she follows him to the counter. She watches as he pulls out his wallet, pulling out a good ten pounds, and then she watches his hand let go of the money as the cashier turns around. She was a very pretty woman. Dirty blonde curly hair, bright green eyes, a small smile. Clara recognized her, she knew it, but she watches as Mr. John pales as she turns her around. She only observes how Mr. John's hand shakes as he hands the woman the money, and she gives him the change with a tight lip. Gripping her hand especially tightly, they walk out of the store together, and Clara watches as Mr. John's hands shake as they hold hands, walking back home.

When they arrive home, she pulls the children's atlas out of the bag, as Mr. John mumbles something about going to get some rest. Nodding in return, she manages to pull it out, but she bumps into the refrigerator. She rubs her head reproachfully, but when she turns completely, she knows who the woman is. She didn't know her name, but Clara knew that that woman had broken Mr. John. That that woman had hurt him and wasn't his friend. And that that woman, was a Ms. River Song.

* * *

><p>John's eyes fill with tears as they slip down his cheek and read the note that River had slipped into the books he had bought for Clara and himself. His heart felt like it was breaking into about a million pieces. She broke him, and he had nearly fixed himself, but now, she was back. Why had fate seemed so cruel? He didn't want to see her again. He didn't want to love her again. But this letter, written with her hand, made him so confused, so conflicted. He read it over and over again.<p>

_Dear, John_

_I'm so sorry about what I had done that night. I...I don't know how to atone for my behavior. I know you must hate me, but I love you, still. I miss you still, and I always will. If you will let me, I want to come back. Show you I can be the woman you deserve. You didn't deserve what I did to you. And I can never, ever apologize for what I have done to you. I didn't expect to see you today, but I've waited for the chance to see you, let fate decide whether we meet again or not. But love is not a choice._

_Oh, John...my Raggedy Doctor, please, let me back into your heart. Fix you, and let me love you like I did, once upon a time. We could be the family she deserves, and you will have the love I have wretchedly taken from you before. I miss you still._

_And I always will._

_So much._

_God, I love you. Always have, always will. That'll never change. I miss you, John, and I love you. And I will never, ever stop._

_River._


	6. Chapter 6

_My Impossible Girl, chapter 6_

_A/N: Hey, my lovelies! I hope you'll enjoy this update to this story, as I have been lazy and not been writing for ages...sorry...I promise now, things will get better. It will get better now. A HUGE shout out to __**Randomcat1832, NotsoSmartguy, Guest and Hannah Skywalker- Jedi Padawan **__for your lovely reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter!_

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><p>Amelia Pond Williams is cuddling with her husband of two years, Rory Williams, enjoying some ridiculous night television contest, when her phone begins to vibrate like no tomorrow. It felt like someone had set off a million mines in her sweater pocket. The two Williams jump up, and Amelia turns her phone on to see about 25 texts from her best friend, John Smith. Angrily unlocking her phone, she texts him.<p>

-_OH MY LORD, WHAT DO YOU WANT, JOHN?!_

-FINALLY!

-_WHAT IS IT!_

-i need someone to look after Clara tonight

-_Raggedy man, it is almost seven are you kidding me_

-Look, Amy...something popped up at work.

-_You're lying_

-Am not!

-_You would never go back to work if something popped up_

-Would so!

_-Would so_

_ -_Would not!

_-WOULD SO_

-Amelia, grow up!

_-In your dreams Raggedy man._

-Oh, please...come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

_-No_

-I'll pay you

_-Nothing you can pay me will make my butt get up from this couch_

-50 quid for an hour or so?

_..._

_ -i'll be there in five minutes_

-:)

Five minutes later, Amelia is pulling up to John's house, Rory grumbling in the passenger seat. Punching his arm lightly, the two walk up the driveway to John's quaint house on the corner of the street. The two windows upstairs were dark, seemingly empty, though the living room's window was wide and open. Inside, Amelia could see John rushing about the house, fumbling with a tie and his tweed blazer. His soccer jersey, which he must have been wearing before, is on the desk in front of his television, where Clara draws happily. John, seeing his best friend through the window, a wide grin takes over his face, and he heads for the door, only to trip over something on the carpet. Amelia stifles a lap, and Rory rolls his eyes, as the two walk up to the white front door and knocks three times, about four, when the door opens quickly.

"Ah! Yes, Amelia!" John nearly jumps for joy, wrapping his arms around Amelia and lifting her into the air, as she squeals loudly, "I knew you would come through!"

"John! Put me down!"

"Mmmm..." John pretends to think for a moment, before turning to Rory, "Permission granted by Rory to set Amy down?"

"Permission-"

"I SWEAR IF YOU DON'T PUT ME DOWN I WILL COME AFTER YOU IN YOUR SLEEP!"

Amy's loud and thoroughly distressed voice interrupts Rory before he can even get another word out, and John slowly, carefully sets her down. She brushes off some particles that had gathered on the front of her jeans, straightens her tan jacket, and enters the house, Rory following quickly after her.

"Thanks, really..." John says, his voice softer and meaningful, "I...I had something come up...and...I got to go."

"Where you headin'?" Rory asks, but before John could speak, Clara comes barrelling into the front foyer, squealing happily at the sight of 'Miss Amelia' and 'Mr. Rory.' Amelia laughs, as Clara begins to try and tug Amelia into the living room, but when she sees John all dressed up, her smile turns into a soft frown. John, seeing this change, gives a slight nod to Amy and Rory. The Williams, getting the message, quickly usher themselves into the living room to give John and Clara privacy.

"Clara, sweetie...I have to go. I've got to go meet someone. Mr. Rory and Miss Amelia will be taking care of you until I come back."

"It's that woman, isn't it?"

John's face goes slack as Clara speaks, her voice soft yet determined. She is five years old. How could she already make the connection between the photos on the wall and River in the bookstore? "Clara, sweetie, I-"

"The woman on the wall. You're going to find her?"

"...yes..."

"But why? She said she was your friend. And she stopped being your friend. So why should you try to find her again? I don't think she was very nice to you."

"Clara..." He begins to grow frustrated as she argues. Even though she is five years old, she understands the mechanics of friendship, probably from all those story books she read somewhere in the orphanage, "Honey, it's very grown up stuff, and you'll understand when you're older."

"But-"

"I'll be back before bedtime." John kisses her forehead, "Okay?"

"...Okay."

An hour later, Clara is sitting on the couch, holding a pillow eagerly in her hands. Miss Amelia had promised her a play, performed by her and Mr. Rory, and Clara couldn't stop bouncing up and down in excitement. The makeshift "stage" they prepared was rolling out the carpet on the living room floor and standing on a long, very low table, so they were elevated just a bit. When the lights went dim, Clara stopped twitching about and watched as the show began.

"Once upon a time..." It was Mr. Rory's voice narrating, "There was a beautiful princess, called Amy."

Amy, wearing a towel around her neck, strutted up the "stage", looking proud and beautiful, curtseying as Clara watched in eagerness.

"She liked to play with other princesses, and there was another princess, her best friend, named Princess Melody."

Amelia pulls out a doll from behind her and pretends to talk to it, the doll coming from the stack of toys John had left behind in Clara's bedroom, that Clara didn't touch often. The doll had a sweet smile, red rosy cheeks, and a crown on its head.

"Melody and Amy were best friends, but there was another Prince they were friends with, named Prince Rory.

On cue, Rory walks onstage, wearing another towel around his neck, and pretended to look very embarassed when the "princesses" came near him. He wore a tiny little crown on his head, and when Amy tried to talk to him, he would be very bashful. Clara giggles when Amy leans over and kisses his cheek, and Rory's blush turns deeper then ever. Taking off the crown, he pretends to be the narrator once again.

"One day, Prince Rory asked Princess Amy to the ball. Princess Amy said yes, and Princess Melody was jealous. Princess Melody hatched a plan, so Princess Amy would never get to the ball with Prince Rory!"

"Princess" Melody, controlled by Amy, slowly walked off into the shadows, looking very devious indeed for a stuffed doll. Amelia and Rory pretend to walk onstage, having a meaningful conversation.

"Princess Melody planted a rose on the edge of the road where they walked, the most beautiful rose ever!" On cue, Rory slides a paper cut out of a rose onto the stage, so Clara could see it, "And when Princess Amelia picked it up, she fainted!"

Amy then pretends to pick up the paper rose, and pretend to faint dramatically, with a gasp, and falling into Rory's arms. Rory tries to shake her but she doesn't wake up. Rory, the narrator again, slowly sits down, and sits by the "body" that is Amelia.

"Prince Rory merely thought she was asleep, so he waited. He didn't know that the spell Princess Melody had cast lasted two thousand years! So, he had magic spells placed on him by a nearby wizard-" Rory pulls a pack of glitter from his pocket and spills it onto himself, "And he waits for Princess Amelia to wake up. He never got hungry or tired or sad, because he is in love with Princess Amelia. So, he waited. Two thousand years, Prince Rory waited for Amelia."

Silence, to indicate the two thousand years. Clara is itching in her cushioned seat. When a good two minutes pass, Rory begins to speak again.

"After two thousand years, Princess Amelia woke up!"

Amelia's eyes slowly open, dramatically, as though actually waking up. She stretches, yawning, and looks around tiredly. She sees "Prince" Rory by the road, and she shakes his shoulder.

"Princess Amelia wakes Prince Rory up from his nap, and when his eyes open, they are so happy! Princess Amelia is finally awake, and she says..."

"Oh, Prince," Amelia speaks now, "Did you wait for me while I was under that terrible spell?"

"Spell?" Rory asks, as though actually Prince Rory, "I merely thought you were very tired, Princess! Nevertheless, I am happy you are awake, so I can tell you this: I love you, Princess Amelia."

"I love you, too, Prince Rory!" Amelia exclaims, and they share a soft kiss in front of Clara, who respectively aww's in response. Amy stands up from their sitting position, following "Prince" Rory's lead, "And we will always be together!"

"And they lived Happily Ever After." Rory finishes, and seals the story with another kiss. Clara sits up happily from her spot from the couch, clapping, standing up. When the lights go back on, Rory and Amelia are bowing happily, though Rory is blushing like no tomorrow. Clara is so amused and happy with the story that the two lovers have told her, she doesn't think at all where Mr. John is, and how he is, and how his own heart may be doing.

* * *

><p>John walks down the deserted alley, glancing only quickly at the homeless and the strange ones out, high on cocaine or drugs. He had no idea why she picked here to meet, but it definitely didn't have to do with comfort. Looking up into the sky, the bright full moon so clear and crisp against the navy carpet that was the clouds and the universe, he asks himself what Clara had asked him earlier, though in a more complicated, universal way.<p>

_Why am I meeting her if she broke my heart?_

_That's because I'm an idiot who's heart is going to be broken again_

Shaking his head, he continues to walk until he's at the end of the alley, where it leads into the road once again, neon signs and car lights blinding him every other second. He shivers, rubbing his hands together for warmth, wrapping his tweed blazer closer around him. It was freezing, and surely, River didn't insist they'd actually talk out here-

"Hello, sweetie."

John froze. Slowly turning to look over his shoulder, there she was, in all her glory. Blonde, curly hair. Bright green eyes. A simple sweater dress of red knitted fabric. In her hands, a blue journal. River Song.

"You don't get to call me that, anymore."

"And why is that?" She seemed genuinely surprised she wasn't allowed to call him that, which only angered John further. If she honestly didn't understand why he was angry, he was ready to leave her there, alone, in the cold. See how she would like it. To be left alone by the one person you thought could love you.

"Well, let's see, you...uh...broke my heart, tore it to pieces, left me humiliated, and guess what? I'M...STILL...ANGRY!" His voice raises to a shout, but she is unfazed.

"Well, it's not like I didn't expect you to be," she replies, as though trying to reason with him, her voice calm but controlled, "But John...I need to talk to you about-"

"About what, River?" He steps closer, enclosing the space between them, "About how you left me alone? About how you promised to never leave me? About-About how you had made me love you, but then you broke every promise we ever MADE?! H-How you were supposed to love me?! ALWAYS! ALWAYS, RIVER!" He's screaming in her face by this point, "YOU PROMISED ME ALWAYS!"

"I shouldn't have brought your hopes up, John."

"What hopes? That we may be happy, together, _always_?" His voice cracks, his anger dispersing, and sadness replacing it, long forgotten sadness, that had made itself clear in nights of alcohol and tear stained pillows. Made itself known in his heart whenever her name was ever mentioned. After the first week, he couldn't listen to music without thinking of her, cause she's in every damn song. River Song.

"I loved you, River. And you said always..."

"...you never meant it, did you?"

"Always is never enough for me, you know this," River replies, calm as ever, "But you are right. I shouldn't have done that. But I did, and it's over and done with, and I am sorry...honestly, I'm still surprised you're still hurt, sweetie."

"Don't. Call. Me. That."

"I didn't deserve you, sweetie, but I did love you well."

"No. No, you didn't."

Before River can say another word, John is walking, leaving her alone in the alley, his heart beginning to pour its tears into his eyes, and they begin to spill, one after the other. He had long thought he had made his peace with River, but now, seeing her again, only broke his heart further, and he had to let it all go. Let his anger go and tell her what he truly thought of her. Letting out a wild yell once he was a good two or three blocks away, the yell scratched his throat and pierced the silence of the night. He kicked the trash can about four or five times, before he could regain his sanity. He hated her. So much.

And it was all he could do not to go back and beg for her forgiveness.


End file.
